


A life of my own

by Tori_Aoshiro



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (that's the PC term for bird people), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Bittybones, Avians, Cute, Family Drama, Fluff, I just don't know when, Mental Health Issues, Might be rewritten or at least adjusted, Multi, Non-human minor races are a thing, On Hiatus, Self-Insert, Slice of Life, There will be romance, Urban Fantasy, Werewolves, all my favorite aus combined AU, also wiccans and HP wizards coexist, don't ask how, they just do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-01-16 22:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12351594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tori_Aoshiro/pseuds/Tori_Aoshiro
Summary: My name is Oceane Durmont and I'm a twenty years old student in literature who lives with her mother in the middle of a vineyard in the south of France. Also, for my defense, I didn't know there were bitties in Europe yet, so of course I had to get myself one.[Alternate title : I couldn't keep myself from diving head first into the bitty AU]





	1. 16/08/17 : The adoption booth, or how I was cuted into getting myself a bitty from an almost stranger

**Author's Note:**

> Only the human characters belong to me. 
> 
> Softies belong to fucken-crybaby, along with most of the bitties you might see in this fic. 
> 
> The various inspirations and concepts used are listed here along with their disclaimers : https://oceanweirdgirl.tumblr.com/disclaimer
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the fanfic!

I met him on my way back home, on a hot August afternoon. Granted, summer was always very hot in Provence, the heat waves hovering over the dark concrete road were there to prove it. Still, it was late in the afternoon, and after an hour-long emotionally draining therapy session I was more than eager to just get home and out of the heat, slump down on the couch and waste my time on Youtube for a couple hours. Except things were not that simple.

You see, when you live in a small village, you cannot count on public transportation. And when you live on the outside of that small village, between a vineyard and a forest, and you know your feet will not carry you under a scorching, albeit beautiful, setting sun, you cannot just walk there. So you need a car and a license. Both of which I did not have. Yet. For a number of reasons.

Long story short, my mom was coming to pick me up at the town hall bus stop, as always, and since she had to drive back from the city, I couldn’t be sure how much time I would have to wait. So as I walked the few streets leading to Central Square – which was actually more a central parking where the market took place every Friday – I took out my phone, ready to drown the swarm of tiring memories and thoughts that poked at my mind after each session in anime openings and fanfictions. I might have even gone on a Pokemon hunt if Mom took too long. Then I heard something and I looked up.

On my way to Central Parking, there was another square, a lot smaller, that usually hosted folk balls and concerts. That day however, the round platform of concrete and metal fences only hosted a couple tables around which a group of people seemed to be talking, and a wooden pen – the kind you’d find at the goat festival or at the petting zoo, except a lot smaller. Children and a few adults were making excited noises at whatever was in that pen, and I immediately put my phone away and walked up to them because if there was any chance I could pet a lamb or a puppy, I  _was_  going to take it.

I stopped for a moment, a few steps away from the pen. There were a lot of people around it and well… Let’s just say I don’t do well in situations where I have to stand in the middle of a bunch of strangers. Though the fact they were mostly kids made the situation more bearable. So when I saw a free space near the wooden barrier, I took it shyly, trying not to look anyone in the eyes.

And there they were. My eyes went wide and my hands shot up to my lips as I bit the insides of my cheeks, trying to repress the squeal building up in my throat. Not puppies, or kittens, or baby goats and lambs like I imagined but tiny bipedal creatures in adorable little outfits, sitting or standing or walking around, talking with each other and with the people cooing over them. Which I was part of. “Oh my gosh,” I whispered, and kept whispering, slightly jumping up and down on my heels. People were probably staring at that point but I was too focused on the sheer level of cuteness the creatures were radiating to give a fuck about it.

I had heard about bitties during my vacation trip in America, from my cousins. Everyone had heard the news about the monsters emerging from mount Ebott, some time ago, with a small child claiming to be their ambassador, and settling around the mountain, trying to get rights for themselves and to live in peace with humans and all the other minor races. I was personally quite supportive of them, but I couldn’t have my hopes too high up. They had emerged in a society that refused to give rights to queer gendered people and that had elected an orange spoilt brat as president. “Pure” humans already had a hard time acknowledging the existence of the minor races, so acknowledging the existence of a monster kingdom was a long shot. But hey, they seemed to be surviving so far. I think the wizard community was helping a lot, they were usually pretty supportive of non-humans and were recognized enough to serve as mediators.

If there was one thing humans liked about monsters though, it was bitties. These tiny creatures measuring up to fifteen centimeters at most just stole people’s hearts. They were very similar to Ebott monsters, species and all, but were a lot smaller, weaker and cuter, though I guess that was very subjective. They remained as sentient and intelligent as fully grown monsters, with the ability to talk and act on their own, but due to their general size and weakness, they had to rely on bigger, stronger people to survive. Which is why the monsters soon started to give them away as pets, and they grew a strong popularity in mere months. I didn’t even know there were some in Europe yet, so finding some of these adorable beings in a tiny village that didn’t even have a high school was at least surprising. Sure, there weren’t actually that many, I could count less than ten of them, all of which were little skeletons, except for a single little yellow fire monster a brother and a sister were currently fighting over, but it was still remarkable they were here at all.

I suddenly heard my name and looked up, then around, for who had called me. A familiar-looking woman waved at me from the tables that had cleared up somehow. I remembered her as the mother of one of my former classmates – she was probably a friend of my mom’s as well. I could not for dear life remember her name, but apparently she knew mine so I dodged the kids around me and walked up to her with a smile. “Um, yes?”

“Oh, good, it is you Oceane, I was worried I’d mistaken you for your sister! You look so much alike,” she said laughing, looking truly relieved. She was wrong but I didn’t correct her. “How are you, it’s been so long!”

So long I don’t remember you. “I’m doing fine, thank you!” I said. “And Izz- I mean, Clementine and Mom too, we’re all good. How are you?”

“Good, good, working, getting ready for the school year, all that stuff.” She asked me about what kind of studies I’d been doing, what I was doing that year, what my sister was doing, and I answered as well as I could. Another familiar-looking woman was organizing papers next to her. I really wanted to ask about the bitty display but she seemed like she wouldn’t stop with the questions until she heard my entire curriculum, my sister’s and my mom’s. I finally managed to slip my question in the conversation and she looked at me with delighted eyes. “Oh, this! I’m helping out friends from the city, you see. They work at a bitty shelter – it’s not right by the old port but a little further downtown, you see? After the small chapel, by the sushi place? Yes, yes – and they had some extra bitties because a few people have been giving theirs back for some reason, so I offered to take some and try to get them adopted in the smaller villages.”

“That’s such a good idea! Any luck yet?”

“A few adoptions, it seems people have spread the word. We’ve been able to place several edgies, which is good because they are the more difficult ones.”

“Oh, why?”

“They bite.”

“Ow.”

“Precisely.”

“How did you get people to adopt them?”

“Oh, I didn’t do anything. It seems a few farmers around here like the feisty attitude and don’t mind the bites too much!” We laughed. I knew a few boys who could probably use that kind of companion. I tried not to think about them. “Say, would you like to adopt?” she said and I shook my head, forcing a larger smile.

“No. I mean, don’t get me wrong, if it was just me, I would take three right now!” I joked. “But I don’t think my mom would appreciate it, she says having pets is not possible for us.”

“I thought you had cats.”

“Yeah, but they aren’t really ours, they were stray, we fed them and they stayed.” I thought for a second and giggled. “Mom tries to be stern but she can’t say no to cute things. If I upped and dangled a tiny bitty in her face she’d probably love them immediately.”

“Knowing Claudia, she definitely would!” the woman said – okay, she was clearly one of Mom’s friends. She paused for a second, then smiled. “Why don’t you pick one and keep him for a few days? If he’s not suited for your home, you can just ask your mom to bring him back to me and I’ll take him back to the shelter.”

“I really don’t know,” I said, pensively. Of course, I was an adult now, if I decided to take a pet home it was my right. I just hadn’t thought of adopting while still living with my mother. What if I decided to travel, or move somewhere else? What if I needed help to take him with me? Would I be able to handle it on my own? Wouldn’t it be a burden on everyone – I took a deep breath.  _Stop thinking like this_ , both my family and my therapist always told me.  _You can have what makes you happy, you don’t have to think about what others want of you_. I don’t have to think about what others want of me. “Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you.”

“Are you kidding? Now go and pick one, Oceane. Just come back and tell me which one so I can cross him out from the list.”

She shooed me away, back to the pen. I was more relaxed now, and there were less people so I rested my elbows on the sides of the fence, quietly gushing over the bitties down there. I really had no idea which one I could pick, they all looked adorable. I could just take a look and if I didn’t see one I liked more than the others, I could just tell Mom’s friend I would adopt later. I quickly ruled out the ones that seemed too aggressive, I wouldn’t be able to handle a bully at home. I spotted a cute little guy with starry eyes that the kids seemed to love. I figured I should probably pick a quieter one though. I didn’t always have a lot of energy.

Then I saw a tiny skeleton curled up in a ball, sleeping in a corner, and my heart just leaped. He was one of the smaller bitties, if I closed my hand over him it would probably hide him entirely. He was wearing comfortable looking pajama pants, socks, and a thick night sky patterned hoodie lined with white fluff, despite the hot season. I was slightly worried that he would get heat stroked in such an outfit, but he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. I did not want to disturb him, but he was just so cute that I couldn’t help myself.

I reached down over the fence and my fingers brushed slightly over his back, almost just an attempt to feel it. He did not budge, deeply asleep, so I figured it would be okay to pick him up. I gently scooped him in my hand and straightened my back so I could watch him comfortably. I noticed other bitties watching as I picked up their fellow and waving at me before turning back to whatever they were doing. It was too late to wave back so I just stood and watched the little bitty in my hands.

He looked even smaller like this, curled up in my palm like a little hedgehog. The fabric of his clothing felt soft and fluffy and made me want to hold him close. With my other hand, I tried to turn him around gently so I could see his face. He squirmed a little when he was laid on his back and tightly grabbed one of my fingers. I had to bite back a squeal not to wake him up, although I hardly understood how he could sleep so soundly among the singing cicadas and shouting children. “Hey, baby,” I whispered fondly. “Is my finger that huggable?”

He only held it tighter and I couldn’t stop the genuine excited smile from sprouting on my face. Gosh, he was way too adorable! I didn’t want to let go of him, which was good because he didn’t seem to want to let go of me either. My heart was pounding – “My kokoro goes doki doki,” I remembered Marilyn saying, and chuckled. I was officially a shojo girl. But at that moment I knew I wanted to bring that little sleepy skeleton home with me.

Question was, would he want to come home with me? Sleep-hugging doesn’t exactly count as a first meeting. Carefully, I wiggled my finger against his cheek – don’t ask me how a skeleton has cheeks – trying to wake him up without startling him too much. “Come on, baby, let me say hi,” I whispered again. It took a good five minutes, but eventually he let go of my finger in favor of rubbing his closed eye-sockets with his tiny fists. Then he opened his eyes and I met a pair of sleepy golden lights glowing from the inside of his skull.

He slowly sat up and looked at me, then around, and then back at me, a little confused. I smiled patiently and it seemed to comfort him because a small smile showed up on his face to replicate mine. “H-” he opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a large yawn that closed his eyes again. He didn’t open them immediately when the yawn ended, so I worried for a moment that he had fallen back to sleep. Thankfully he hadn’t, and his eyes opened again. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said back. He still looked so sleepy and I chuckled. “Nice nap?”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed back. His golden eyes kept detailing my face. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Oceane,” I answered. “What’s yours?”

“Just Softy. For now,” he said, shyly looking down at his fingers. He had a very cute voice, calm and slow-paced, which was good because it meant I could hear him clearly and didn’t need him to repeat himself when he talked.

“What do you mean for now? Do bitties usually change names?”

He nodded. “When I get an owner. They could give me one. A name.” He looked up at me with his head still a little down, doing that adorable face children do when they are trying to get a favor. I knew what he was silently asking with that face and my smile grew larger. I needed a few seconds to get the words out correctly, but then I managed to ask.

“Would you like it if  _I_  gave you a name?”

His face immediately lit up and his hands reached down to his sides to help him sit straighter, as if to get closer to me without actually getting up from my palm. “Are you adopting me?”

“Only if you want me – ”

I hadn’t even finished my sentence when he fell forward and I worried he had passed out, only to find him hugging my wrist with his tiny little arms, rubbing his face on my skin as he moved his legs out of the way. “I do. Please,” he said.

“Alright, baby,” I said fondly. “Be careful, don’t fall,” I added, rubbing the back of his skull with my left hand’s thumb.

He shook his head, but didn’t seem to want to let go, so I just kept my left hand over him as I walked back to the tables and the familiar-looking woman. She was busy sorting some papers, so I waited a few moments, standing in front of her, before raising my voice lightly. “Um… Excuse me?”

She looked up. “Oh! Have you found one you like?”

“I have,” I said, showing her the skeleton still clutching my wrist. She giggled when she saw him and bend over the table, squinting to see him better.

“Oh, you’re lucky! That’s our last softy!”

“Right.” And then I realized. “Wait, I thought that was his name?”

She laughed at how absolutely ignorant about bitty types I was at the time before explaining to me how bitties existed in different types: bittybones, grillbitties, bittyblossoms, etc… And how there were different variations in those types, like there were different dogs and cats races. Apparently, the little one holding onto me right now was a softy, a sans-type bittybone. “They need a lot of love and a lot of sleep, but be very careful not to lose him because they tend to find weird places to sleep in.”

Well, that shouldn’t be too hard to do. “I think I can handle this little guy. Right, sweetie?” I said, looking at the softy on my wrist. He nodded weakly against my skin like he was drifting back to sleep. It made me chuckle. I carefully pulled him away from my forearm and back into my palm so that he didn’t fall asleep there and lose his grip. He looked at me and smiled, then decided my thumb would be a nice teddy bear.

The lady held me back for a few more minutes, with a pamphlet, information about how to take care of him and a recommendation to look everything I didn’t know on the internet and to go to the Bitty Care Center in town if I needed to buy him clothes or specific items. Unfortunately she didn’t have anything else for me, it really was just an adoption booth after all, but she promised I could found everything in town. I figured I would go soon, then.

“Okay, I have to go now, Mom might be waiting for me already,” I said, and the lady waved me goodbye as a mother and her kid took my place in front of her.

The softy had fallen asleep by now, cuddling my thumb like it was a body-pillow. It wasn’t really comfortable but he looked too cute for me to disturb him.

I finally reached Town Square and looked around to check if Mom as there already. She wasn’t, so I just sat on the bench at the bus stop, pulled my skirt over my knees and rested my hand holding the bitty on my laps. For a few minutes, until Mom got there, I tried to think of a nice name for him as he peacefully slept in my hand. I thought of names like Ange, or Sky, or Celestin, but none of them felt really fitting.

When I finally spotted my mom’s dirty white car, I stood up and happily hopped in as she stopped by the bench. I kissed her cheek as a greeting and gently woke the Softy up to introduce him.

“What’s this?” she said before I got a chance to explain.

“This is my new bitty,” I answered. “He’s a Softy.”

I rubbed his cheek a little, trying to get him to wake up. He eventually opened his eyes and looked at me sleepily. “Mommy?”

I just melted at this, whispering oh my goshs under my breath and pressing him close to my chest. My mom smiled at that and almost giggled. “Aw, he’s cute!” she said, trying to keep up driving while glancing at him every now and then. “Just so you know, you’ll be the one taking care of him.”

“I know, Mom. I think that’s the whole point of adopting him.”

“Just making sure, I don’t want him to end up like your goldfish.”

“I was two, mom. And Softy’s not a goldfish, he’s a bitty.”

“I know, sweetie,” she said, chuckling. “I’m just kidding. So Softy’s his name, huh?”

“Actually no, I still have to figure out one.” I said, biting the inside of my cheek.

“Don’t bite yourself,” she said. “You’ll find something for him I’m sure.”

We went silent for a moment. Then I realized. “You still haven’t said hi.”

“Hi,” she said with a smile. My bitty nodded at her attentively. “I’m your Mommy’s Mom, but please don’t call me Grandma.”

“What, then?” he asked.

“Just Claudia is fine, I guess.”

“Claudia,” he repeated, and smiled. “Got it!”

He stayed pretty much awake for the rest of the ride home. He was not a very talkative bitty, which was fine, because I was not a talkative person. I held him in front of the window so that he could see how we went from the village to the fields, and then up to our house. “It’s so big!” he said. He was pointing at the fields and trees spreading in every direction. I just kissed his skull and opened the door.

“Welcome home, sweetie.”


	2. 20/08/17 : Little lamb, or How a picnic led to giving my bitty an old French name

“Oh, wow. Already? Okay,” I said, when I scrolled down on my open Word Document, revealing the very few lines of text I had yet to translate. I had not realized I had done so much already that it was almost finished. I quickly translated the last lines, excited by the perspective of having some free time, and saved.

Satisfied, I leaned back into my chair and stretched out my arms. I had been working for maybe two hours like this and my body was definitely glad to move a little. No more translating to do for the day. So now what?

It was almost 5pm, according to my watch. I would be alone for at least two more hours before Mom or Izzy came back – if they came back that night. Writing didn’t seem very satisfying for now, I wanted to do something that would involve a little more action. Going for a walk maybe. Yeah, that sounded good. I suddenly remembered the large blackberry brambles that were growing here and there in the estate. I hadn’t gone berry picking early enough last year and missed all the good fruit, but maybe it wasn’t too late this year. Not to mention it would be a great way to show my still unnamed Soft Bones around.

I turned to the shoebox I had stuffed with an old blanket for him to sleep in. The pamphlet I had was oddly specific about it: bitties had to have their sleeping space separate from their human’s bed, because they were so small they could get lost in the sheets, squished inadvertently or suffocate. Moreover, Soft Bones needed at least fourteen hours of sleep a day, if not more, so using a shoebox allowed me to give him intimacy when he needed a nap during the day. The problem was Soft Bones had the tendency to wake up every few hours and explore a bit before falling asleep again wherever they were comfortable. I had experienced this firsthand the day before, so I wasn’t too surprised when I opened the box and found it to be empty.

I first checked the closet, where I had found him the first time I lost him. He wasn’t there, even though I checked through the layers of clothing. Next I checked my own bed, but thankfully he wasn’t there. Then I looked in the cupboards, in my pockets, in my mom’s and my sister’s room, until I finally found him in the living room, snuggling up to Mouse, our cat.

Obviously, I had to take a picture.

Mouse looked up at the sound and seemed to decide she had slept enough, not realizing the Soft Bones was still laying on her. He slipped down her stomach and woke up as she hopped off the couch. He yawned widely and stretched, barely opening his eyes to look at me. I just smiled and scooped him up in my hands. “Did you have a nice nap, sweetie?” I whispered. He nodded happily as I kissed the top of his skull. “I’m going to go for a walk, would you like to come with me?"

He looked at me, his eyes widening slowly. “Yes,” he said, in an awed whisper, and I giggled. He was so cute and innocent, like a little lamb.

I dropped by the kitchen to grab a Tupperware and regret for a moment our lack of wicker baskets before heading to the front door. My bitty was sitting on my head, holding onto my hair after promising he was awake enough to keep himself from falling. I slipped my feet into a pair of sneakers, grabbed my keys, phone and a bottle of water, and left.

The heat outside was awful. I hadn’t been home all summer but I had seen on the news that we had been hit with a massive heat wave this year, and we were still experiencing the remains of it. I was very thankful as soon as we got under the shade of the trees surrounding the dirt road that connected our home to the village, though bitter with the knowledge it would not last very long and the rest of the way would be walked under the scorching sun. “Softy,” I said, “are you too hot? Do you need to take a layer off?”

He was still wearing the thick pajamas he had been wearing when I adopted him, because I hadn’t had the time to go to town yet, and was planning on going next week. Still he didn’t seem to feel bothered by it as he said, “No, Mommy.”

Maybe bittybones didn’t mind extreme temperature as much as other kinds of bitties. After all, they didn’t have any skin. I still said “Tell me if you’re not comfortable, alright?” He didn’t answer, but I had noticed he would mostly just nod, so I didn’t ask again.

We reached the end of the trees and the beginning of the fields: vineyards on our right and reaped wheat on our left. The grapes hanging on the vines were perfectly ripe, dark and round. “It’s almost time for harvest,” I commented and I felt my softy shift so he could see the grapes better, as I walked.

“Do you harvest them?”

“No, darling. Our landlady has employees to do it.”

“They’re not yours?”

“No, no,” I laughed. “Mom, Izzy and I only rent a house on the estate, none of that land is ours.”

He went quiet for a moment. And then “So we can’t have any?”

“Any what?” I asked before processing. “Oh grapes?” I smiled, amused. “Do you like grapes that much?”

He probably nodded, although I couldn’t see. I was getting good at interpreting his silences. “At the shelter, we could have some as a snack, sometimes. It’s my favorite.”

“Well…” I looked around quickly, and then stepped onto the vineyard. “We shouldn’t do that too much because this technically counts as stealing. But Mrs. Cordial usually doesn’t mind us taking a little bit of grapes for ourselves. She sometimes even hands it to us as a gift.”

“She’s nice!”

I quickly picked a small amount of fruit and put it in my Tupperware for later. Then I quickly walked back onto the trail. I didn’t like doing this, even though I knew nobody would mind. I plucked a piece of grape and handed it to my bitty who made a delighted noise. “You can have one now, and then we can snack on it later. For now, we’re going to the blackberry bushes.”

“Where?”

I pointed at the large brambles right before the dirt road’s curve. “Over there.” We got there pretty fast and I was glad to see the bushes were heavy with berries. I placed my Tupperware on the ground, and then picked my bitty from the top of my head, kissing his skull before setting him down. “I need to move freely and I don’t want you to fall.”

He just nodded as I started picking berries and dropping them in the plastic box. “Doesn’t this count as stealing too?” he asked. He didn’t seem worried or anything, just curious.

“Well, not really. The vineyard belongs to the Cordials because they planted them and harvest their fruits. But nobody planted the brambles, they just sort of grew.”

He kept silent as I started growing frustrated with a cluster of berries placed just a couple inches out of my reach. It happened almost every time I went berry picking alone, because Izzy wasn’t there to pick the ones I couldn’t reach.

And then an idea came to my mind. I turned to my softy, kneeling down with a smile. “Say, sweetie, would you like to help me picking the higher berries?” He didn’t seem too sure but still nodded, so I gently picked him up again, and raised him high above my head to the cluster I couldn’t reach.

“Can you get them?” I asked, and he nodded, starting to pull on the closest berry. He was a little weak, but after a few tries he managed to find out how to pluck them from the stem by twisting them. “Great job, darling!” I praised, but when I lowered him to eye-level the berry was already in his mouth as he chewed happily. Noticing my surprised expression, he swallowed and looked down, a little ashamed.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No, no, baby, it’s fine,” I reassured him with a smile. “Just try not to eat the next one, okay? We can eat as many as we want when we’re done.”

We kept picking berries together like this, my softy serving as an extension of my arm – an extension that would accidentally eat the berry sometimes, until most of the berries on the bush were gone. I showed my bitty our plastic box filled with fruit, praising him for his work. “Now, we can go and find somewhere to picnic!”

Before leaving though, I took my bottle and spread some water at the foot of the brambles, whispering thanks.

“What are you doing?” my bitty asked.

“Just thanking the plant for the fruits.” I had shown him the pagan altar in my room, but he probably didn’t know what it meant

“You have to?”

“Not really, but I do it. I like being polite.”

My bitty looked slightly puzzled. But when we left, I felt him shift on the top of my head and say “Thank you!”, and it was so cute I couldn’t help but giggle.

There was a place on the estate where I loved to go. South of the fields was a charming narrow brook bordered with trees and, across it, a simple stone bridge. After the bridge, there was a crossroad connecting to the different paths one could take – to the forest, the farm, or the village. And right at that crossroad, there was a small patch of grass and a rock to sit on. That’s where I sat with my bitty for our picnic.

There was rarely anyone walking by, no noise but the chirp of the birds and whispers of the river. I picked my softie from my head and sat him in my lap, offering him a grape from the box. He took it happily and bit into it, not quite big enough to fit all of it in his mouth. I still wondered how skeletons could eat but I had decided a while ago that it didn’t matter so much anyway.

I picked some fruit for myself and we started eating in silence. A comfortable silence though. The kind of silence that made me realize that little softy really was the right choice, we didn’t need to do anything to be happy with each other.

Minutes went by in the declining sun, and my bitty was slowly dozing off in my hand. I was humming lightly under my breath, taking in the scenery, when I heard sounds of bells and bleating coming this way and perked up.

Coming from my left was a large, noisy flock of sheep heading to the fields, pushed forward by a couple of big black dogs. At the back end of the flock walked the shepherd. I knew of him, he was around a lot because his sheep pen was around the White Mill Farm, near the village, and he walked them around a lot in the hot seasons, to take advantage of the new pastures. I didn’t really talk to him personally, but I knew my mother talked with him sometimes and he was a nice guy. I waved at him from where I was and he waved back, not saying a word as he kept pushing his flock forward.

Some of the sheep that passed by me paused a moment to take a bite of grass and give me curious looks. There were even newborn lambs clumsily following their moms around on their shaky legs. “Hey, baby, look at this!” I said, nudging my bitty awake.

He opened his eyes, only to find himself surrounded by the sea of fuzzy animals and the ringing of the bells around their necks. “Mommy, what are these?”

“Sheep.”

“Like the skin?” He was talking about the sheep skin rug in my room.

“Yeah, but these are live animals.”

“We count those to sleep. I didn’t know they look like that. Oh, babies,” he added, noticing the lambs.

“Yes, these are lambs. And very young ones too.” I chuckled. “In French, we call those “agnelet”, or sometimes “milk lambs”, because they still drink their mother’s milk.”

“Cute,” he commented, looking down at the baby animals with an innocent smile. Innocent like a lamb, they say.

“You’re cuter,” I said, kissing the top of his skull, and he giggled softly. That’s when the idea struck me. At first, it was just one among many, but it started to impose itself in my thoughts, until eventually I asked. “Say, baby? How about I called you that?”

“Lamb?” he asked.

“No, Agnelet. “Milk Lamb”. I think it suits you. Because you’re my cute sleepy little lamb.” I thought he’d at least need to think about it a little, but he immediately seemed to love the name, repeating it under his breath with an awed expression. A large smile grew on his face but he didn’t add anything, he just hugged my thumb tight. I brought him to my face and pressed him to my cheek happily. “Agnelet it is, baby.”


	3. 25/08/17 : Agnelet on water, or why I hate canoeing even more now

“What? Dad, I asked you before if they were equipped for bitties and you said it was fine!”

My dad just shrugged like it was no big deal and I let out an annoyed sigh.

It was my grandmother’s birthday, so my dad, as the dominant alpha wolf of the family, had decided that he would take her, his girlfriend Myriam, our cousins Jenyah and Isaiah who were temporarily traveling in Europe, Izzy, and I, to go canoeing on the river, in the rapids, with a counselor and a bunch of other people.

Never mind that I hated canoeing on rivers, especially with large groups of strangers that enjoyed splashing ice-cold water at each other. And he knew that, ever since the disastrous time we went canoeing and got trapped in the rain and cold wind for an entire day.

I usually could find a way to excuse myself from such events, but this was my grandmother’s birthday, and as much as I hated that stupid idea my father had, I loved her too much to skip. Not to mention Izzy already had plans with her boyfriend that day and couldn’t make it. I had to go. Before I agreed on that though, I asked my father if I could take Agnelet along with me, so I wouldn’t have to leave him alone at home, and he said there was no problem.

However, my father apparently just “thought” they were equipped and hadn’t bothered to check on the website. He only told me as we had lunch all together at the restaurant, the very day we were supposed to go. Agnelet had made quite the impression when I introduced him to my family, especially with Myriam and Isaiah who both asked to hold him for a little while. He looked slightly overwhelmed with so many people around him, but was otherwise okay with it.

However, when I mentioned canoeing, my Dad said I should attach him to my lifejacket so he wouldn’t fall and drown. He didn’t know if they did have bitty-sized jackets, he hadn’t actually checked. I was suspecting him of doing that on purpose, to prevent me from using Agnelet as an excuse not to come. So there was no guarantee that the canoes would actually be safe for him.

“It’s fine, Oceane, you can just leave him in the car if you don’t think it’s safe.”

“I’m not leaving him alone in a car, it’s at least thirty five degrees Celsius out there today. If he’s not coming, I’m not either.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re coming with us Oceane,” he said, and this time his tone was a little more serious. I averted my eyes, looking at the other people at the table for support. My grandmother was staring at her plate, not wanting to get involved – she was as submissive as me, especially when it came to her sons. Myriam, an omega as well, was talking with Jenyah – a beta, like her sister - who just looked a little uneasy. Isaiah probably would have said something if it was anyone but her uncle. She just gave me a compassionate smile.

“He’s coming too then, but if anyone even tries to make us fall I will not tolerate it,” I said and my dad laughed it off.

“Yes ma’am,” he just said, and I felt myself burning with anger. I loved my dad, but he had no idea how much his attitude hurt me. Sure, your bitty could drown, lol, I don’t care.

Myriam tried to change the conversation, and managed to do it pretty well, but I was still angry, to the point where Agnelet, who was sitting by my plate on the table eating bits of fried potatoes, noticed. He touched my hand to attract my attention and looked at me with his big golden eyelights. “Mommy, love you,” he just said, and I smiled unintentionally.

“I love you too, baby.”

And to think I used to wonder why it always made my mom smile when I said that to her.

We finished eating and decided to take a walk around town before heading to the river. And by that I mean they decided and Dad made me come with because of course I wanted to come with, why would I feel tired or want to stay in the shade for a while? True, it was a nice walk, and Agnelet enjoyed it too, riding on my head and holding onto my hair. He’d fall asleep in a short while, and I knew that because he usually needed a nap about an hour after a meal, but for now he was quite happy.

We eventually headed for the river and the canoe rental center. And what a surprise! They didn’t have bitty-sized jackets. Thankfully though, a very crafty employee saw how upset I was and quickly crafted a little lifeline with corks and toothpicks. I thanked him profusely. I’m pretty sure he saved me from a crying spell just then.

Of course my dad had to say “See? Told you.”

Lifejackets on, paddle in hand, canoes out, we were ready. The group we were with was even larger than I thought but I tried not to let that impress me. I was teamed up with my two cousins while my dad, Grandma and Myriam were on another canoe. Agnelet was dozing off on my shoulder, tucked under a strap and holding his makeshift lifeline. Seemed okay for now.

Jenyah, Isaiah and I climbed into our canoe and were pushed into the river. I felt the water and winced. It was ice-cold. I really hoped we wouldn’t need to get wet.

Guess what happened ten minutes later?

“Okay, everyone! Come over here and get off so we can get the canoes down the dam. One at the time, please!”

I did not sign up for this shit.

My cousins and I waited until the last minute to get off the boat and into the water. The coldness bit my skin up to my knees, even through my shoes, and I hissed. I was obviously not happy about this. I ran onto the bank as quickly as I could. My cousins didn’t seem as uncomfortable as I was – well, good for them.

And then there was more walking in the icy water so we could get back on the canoes. Some people were splashing each other. Seriously, what is the point of having boats if you’re trying to get wet anyway?

We started paddling again and Dad, Myriam and Grandma caught up with us. They looked like they were having fun, but I was tense from the cold and the previous disagreement, so I yelled – actually yelled at my dad. “I am not ever doing this again and I hope you remember that!”

He had a sardonic grin and starting cooing at me condescendingly, which I refused to listen to. He didn’t look mad at least, guess the therapy was working. Or maybe it was around the new moon or something. It probably was, it had been about two weeks since the full moon. Having werewolves in the family really helps keeping track of the phases.

The boat ride went pretty smoothly for about another fifteen minutes. Then we had to get down again because you could swim down the rapids if you wanted to. My cousins wanted to. I think they are crazy, on top of being Australian, or maybe my aunt had lied and was part ice monster or something.

Thankfully, there wasn’t actually enough water to go down the rapids safely so we had to settle for using the boats. I won’t lie, I was quite glad.

Everyone found their way safely down the rapids and we all started paddling lazily as the river carried us on the last part of the trip. Agnelet, who had been snoring softly in the pit of my neck was starting to wake up with the turmoil. So far, it hadn’t been as bad as I feared it would be. If I didn’t count the walking in cold water, it could have been a pleasant activity. Even more so when Isaiah asked me to sing to steady the paddling. There you got me singing “Et on pagaie et on pagaie” and “Going down the bayou” and feeling good about it.

And then it happened.

After the rapids, there was a long part of the river that was very calm and quite picturesque, with trees growing on the banks, hanging over the peaceful waters. Agnelet, who had now woken up completely from his afternoon nap, struggled out of my lifejacket’s strap and climbed onto the top of my head using my hair as a rope, as he was now used to do when he wanted a better view around. Since it was harder with the cork lifeline, I helped him up and he settled there for a little while, which made Isaiah giggle.

The calm, deep river soon started to look a little narrower. There was still plenty of space but the trees were closing in a little and Jenyah seemed a little too fine about how close we were to them. At one point there was a tree that had fallen down over the river, and although we managed to avoid the trunk, our direction made us go straight into the lower branches.

Now, they were just branches, we could just bend down to avoid them. True. But there were several of them. I leaned a little to avoid the first ones, helping Agnelet steady, but then Jenyah let go of the branch that she had been holding out of her way right in front of me. The branch flung at my head, hitting me in the face and drawing a cry out of me.

And then a longer, terrified cry from Agnelet.

I turned around and watched in horror as the tiny bitty held onto the tip of a twig for dear life. He had been flicked away from my head when the branch hit and was now hanging over the deep waters as his lifeline drifted away, having slipped down. “Hold on, back, back!” I yelled at my cousins who didn’t realize what happened immediately and just kept asking “What? What?” at every frenetic plead.

Jenyah eventually realized what it was that got me so upset and slowly, oh so slowly, maneuvered the canoe around to go back and catch my bitty. Agnelet was shaking with fear, so hard that the whole twig was shaking with him. Bittybones do not float in water because they are too dense, and unless they are mermaid crossbreeds or very good swimmers, dropping them in deep waters is deadly. I didn’t know if Agnelet could swim and I was not taking any chances.

“Hold on, Agnelet, we’re coming!” I’d shout, as if the louder I yelled the longer he’d be able to hold onto that tiny twig. I could hear his usually quiet and peaceful voice screaming at me for help, and that damn canoe refused to go faster.

Another canoe started to go through the branches, alerted by my screams, and I remember feeling a rush of both relief and dread when one of the canoers spotted my bitty and reached out to catch him from his perch, easily pulling him down into his own palms. There was just this one silly thought of jealousy that you have in this kind of situation, _will they refuse to give him back_?

Of course that was just a silly thought and as the two canoes drew closer, the man smiled at me and asked “Is it yours?”

I was too emotional to correct him on the pronoun he used and just said “Yes.”

“There you go.” The man held out Agnelet for me to reach and I held him close as soon as I could.

“Oh goodness, thank you! Oh, Agnelet, sweetie, baby, honey, I’m so sorry darling, are you alright?”

“Scary, scary, so scary, scary, mommy, mommy…” he blabbered incoherently like a child in the middle of a nightmare, pressing himself against my skin, and all I could do was hold him tight, shushing him, whispering words of comfort until eventually, probably drained by the rush of adrenalin, he fell asleep again in my hands.

It later hit me that normally, sans-types were gifted with teleportation powers – that was in the pamphlet, there was even a note explaining how to hold them to avoid them teleporting away. I hadn’t seen Agnelet doing it a lot – well, at all actually, which is why I hadn’t realized right then that he could. When I asked him why he hadn’t used his powers to teleport safely back onto the canoe, he just said it was too scary.

After this, we managed to arrive at the end of the planned route quickly and safely and climbed off the canoes and into the bus supposed to bring us back to the canoe rental place. My legs were still a little shaky, I was tired from the activity and from the fear I had and the other canoers didn’t help when they started shout-singing YMCA and didn’t stop until the bus arrived, waking Agnelet up in the process, but I was mostly glad the whole thing was over. I could just cuddle with my bitty and make silly faces at him to distract both of us from the over-excited passengers. Seriously, how do people have that much energy to spare?

After we got back to our car, Dad treated us to ice cream at the local gelateria before we went home. I just promised myself I wouldn’t let him guilt-trip me into canoeing on a river ever again.


	4. 27/08/17 Angry Yelling, or How I stood up to my sister

I was at my father’s house, that evening. He had it back for a few days before he’d rent it again for the year, so we had decided on having a Game of Thrones season 7 marathon before the last episode would air the next morning. That meant him, his girlfriend Myriam, my sister Izzy, Agnelet and I.

I was in my room, lying down on my bed, watching cartoons and reaction videos on the internet. Agnelet was sleeping in his shoebox, on my desk, because he wanted to stay awake as long as he could before passing out during the marathon. I knew he probably wouldn’t last more than three episodes at most, but it was fine because he needed to watch the previous seasons anyway. We could do that together later, but he still wanted to stay with me during the marathon.

I heard someone knock on my bedroom’s door (it was usually closed), so I paused my video and said “come in!” in a low voice, so I wouldn’t wake up my bitty. He was a heavy sleeper but you never know.

Izzy was the one who came in. We smiled at each other as she sat down on my bed. “Hey, Izzy, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to ask you something,” she said, and from the calm tone of her voice I knew she was actually asking me a favor.

“What is it?”

“When are you getting your driving license?”

There it was. I rolled on my back and sighed. “Whenever the driving school calls me back to tell me when my next lesson is.”

“Have you called them?”

“Called them and they told me to send them a text. Texted them and they didn’t answer.”

“When did you call them?”

“About three days ago?” Probably longer, I had called them at the beginning of the week.

“You should call them again.”

I knew that, I was planning on doing that. But I still sighed again. “Yeah, I will. I’m doing what I can already, you know?”

“No, you’re not. You’re doing what you want, not what you can.”

Anger started burning in my chest. I looked up and glared at her. All she wanted was someone to drive her places when Mom was on a business trip. And apparently, she had decided I had to be that person. And the fact I was already under pressure to get myself a job didn’t matter.

“Hey, look, I know how it works, you don’t wanna do it so you’re not doing it right, honestly I don’t wanna do it either but this is important for both of us.”

 _It’s my own life_ , I thought, but the words wouldn’t come out. Not in front of my Alpha sister.

“I’m just saying, when Mom is going to be away, it would be better than moving to a friend’s place for a week just so I can go to school, you know? I’d have to move all my stuff around, and junk…” I kept glaring at her as I nodded, trying to get her to leave the conversation there. Something in me wanted to snap at her, and the part of me holding back was not going to last very long. But she didn’t leave it, she just kept pushing. “So just try harder.”

“I just told you I’m doing my best.” I said between gritted teeth.

“No, because if you were you would already have lessons planned.”

“We’ve been home for only two weeks and I can’t make the school go faster, I’m not in their heads!”

“How long have you promised me to get that license?”

“I haven’t promised you anything!” I snapped at her.

“Yes you have, we talked about this.”

I repressed a growl but it came out anyway as I said. “A few months ago?”

“So why haven’t you done anything yet?”

“I was in prep school, I was in the middle of my exams and then I had Dad on my back because I messed up my enrollment! I think I had more important things to think about!” I had started yelling at her, and she noticed it.

“Look at you, you’re being aggressive again! I’m talking to you calmly here and you’re getting yourself angry for no reason!”

“You are the one angering me.”

“I’m not, I’m being calm.”

“You  _are_  angering me.” I repeated. Something in me was quivering in fear, begging me to calm down and submit, but my anger was coming out, and it felt  _good_. Too good to stop.

“I’m just saying you should have taken care of it sooner and now it’s a mess because of you.”

“Well I didn’t. What’s done is done, so stop rubbing it in.”

“You had plenty of time, you should have taken lessons before we left…”

“Are you even listening to me right now?” I growled. “I’m asking you to drop it. I’m asking you to stop asking me something I’ve already been asked about every day since I came home, because I’m tired and angry about everyone assuming I’m just not trying. I AM trying, and I am expressing the fact that making me feel bad about it is NOT helping. So just stop looking at me like I was a wall, please!”

“Why are you yelling at me like that?” she just said, in her cold, inflexible voice. “You have to learn to keep your emotions down, Oceane.”

“No, I won’t,” I said. I almost wanted to spit at her for saying that. “I’ve tried keeping them down for a dozen years, and I had anxiety attacks. I am BROKEN in the head, Clementine.” She frowned when I used her first name and I kept myself from apologizing. I wasn’t going to back down just like that. “So I’m not going to keep them in anymore.”

She snarled but kept her voice down. “You just have to get your shit together. You let your life go down in flames and it’s all messed up because of you. So stop being a pussy and act like you should instead of playing with your bitty and writing fanfictions all day like a nerd!”

There it was. The disdain. The disgust. Everything she used to spit at me when I was her age. That was it. I pointed at the open door. “Get out.” She looked at me like I was a difficult child throwing a tantrum. I repeated myself. “Get. Out.”

“No, we are talking, so I’m not leaving.”

“You came in, ignored what I was telling you and insulted me. Get out of my fucking ROOM!” I roared. I was afraid she’d hit me, like she did before when she was upset with me. But she just stayed silent, looking at me with mildly annoyed eyes, like I was nothing, just a small insect bothering her. So I kept yelling. “Get out! Get out! GET OUT!”

“Stop yelling!” she ordered, and instinctively, I lowered my voice.

“Then leave my fucking room!”

She didn’t at first. But then I yelled again, and she knew Dad or Myriam could have heard our fight, so she stood up and stomped through the door.

“Now, when I ask you to drop a subject, please just do it!” I spat at her before closing my door again and turning the key in the lock. I did well, because a second later she was trying to open it and growling at me through the wood. She punched it once or twice before leaving, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

My hands and knees were shaking when I laid back down on my bed, and I was still so angry I wanted to bite something. There was a sting of fear squishing my stomach, squeezing tears up into my tear ducts. But I was okay.

“Mommy?” I heard, and I suddenly realized how loud the whole clash had been. I sat up and looked down into Agnelet’s room-box. He had probably woken up when I had started yelling. His eyes were scrunched up in worry as he hugged the stuffed mouse I had given him. “What was going on?”

Guilt hit me like a truck and I quickly scooped him up in my hand to hold him. “Oh, Agnelet, baby, sweetie, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up like this!” I pressed a kiss on the top of his skull and let him nuzzle my cheek. “I had a fight with Izzy is all.”

“Why?” he asked.

I had to stop and think. Why exactly was I angry? “She just… I just couldn’t handle her talking me down without listening to me again. I’m oversensitive, you know. She doesn’t understand that she’s hurting me when she does that.” He pressed against my cheek and I realized it wasn’t something he should bear. I kissed his skull again. “Don’t worry about it, darling. My sister and I have a few issues and we’re working on them. You shouldn’t have to get stuck in it, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m fine, Mommy,” he said, rubbing an eyesocket. “But are you okay?”

I smiled at him. My heart was still thumping but I was actually feeling good. For the first time in a very long while, I had been able to stand up to my sister without getting hurt. Of course, we would need to talk it over later, but right now, I felt strangely satisfied. Not to mention, I wasn’t alone with my own anger and guilt anymore. I had someone I had to reassure and take care of, someone to focus on, instead of my own problems. “I am feeling great, Agnelet,” I told him sweetly. And I meant it.

He decided to stay with me and we watched web series on Youtube together until Dad called us to the living room for the marathon. Izzy and I pretended nothing happened, as always.

We had cold pizza and M&Ms to eat while watching the series. Agnelet latched onto the chocolate like a hungry beast before passing out on my knees half-way through the third episode as I rubbed the back of his neck. I carried him back to his bed when the episode was over so that he could sleep without being bothered by the music or my family’s reactions. And I silently thanked him for being here, with me. For listening to me when my own sister wouldn’t.


	5. 14/09/17 : School, or How a bitty can help you make friends just by being there

September hit me in the form of an email from the university. My late subscription was accepted, I was attending the creative writing lessons the next day. It was sudden, unexpected, scary and also amazing. “Good job, mommy,” had said Agnelet with a sleepy smile when I showed him the email. It was in the afternoon, before Mom or Izzy came home.

“I still can’t believe it,” was all I could say. In the beginning of summer, I had been denied from the classes I wanted to attend, things about publishing houses and bookmaking. Finding out there were still vacant seats in creative writing was a spark of hope that was now blooming into a firework of excitement and fear. “I can’t believe they liked my works enough to let me in. The other students will have like two years’ worth of experience over me, I’m going to sound ridiculous…”

Agnelet just hugged my wrist like he liked to do. “Your writing is nice.”

“Thank you sweetie, I just…” I couldn’t find the words to explain why I was freaking out like this. Truth be told, there wasn’t actually anything to be scared of. I was just like that.

I didn’t finish my sentence, in favor of gently rubbing Agnelet’s skull. He closed his eyes and smiled. If I kept doing that, he’d be snoring in about five minutes even though he had just woken up from his afternoon nap. So instead, I looked up the time for the bus. The university was in town, a good half-hour away from the village, and since the lesson was in the middle of the day, Mom couldn’t drop me off.

I suddenly wondered if Agnelet would be fine on his own, at home, while I was in class. Not like the house wasn’t safe, but Agnelet did rely on me for most things, if only to remember to wake up for lunch. Also, he tried to make scrambled eggs once, and forgot to turn the stove off, almost burning a dish towel. Maybe I could bring him with me, but I wasn’t sure if the university was okay with bitties. Agnelet was well-behaved, anyway, it couldn’t be that much trouble.

“Do you want to come with me, tomorrow?”

He looked at me almost like he was hurt. “Yes.”

I felt guilty for my question. It had been so obvious to him that he’d come with; after all, he had followed me almost everywhere since I got him. Granted, I did not leave the house much those previous weeks, except for driving lessons and therapy sessions and that one time we went canoing. This was different.

We left the house in the late morning the next day. All I had in my backpack was my laptop, notebook and pen. Agnelet was riding in the side pocket, still a little drowsy. The bus driver eyed him curiously when I climbed in after the long walk from the vineyard to the bus station, but he didn’t say anything. I blushed a little, although I knew bitties were still rather uncommon and of course Agnelet was going to catch everyone’s attention.

I hadn’t been to the university before. I probably should have, it would have saved me the terror of finding out how awfully huge and confusing it was on my first day. All I could do was ask around for directions, my timetable in hand. Agnelet had moved to my shoulder by now, and somehow, him petting my neck kept me from panicking too much.

We eventually found the correct classroom. We were early, so I just sat next to the door and took my phone out. There was a small group of alphas fooling around down the corridor, so I retreated into my own world of thoughts and fanfics to avoid worrying about them. Agnelet was looking at my phone screen from my shoulder, commenting and asking questions once in a while. Some people would notice him and giggle as they walked by.

Soon, more people gathered around the door. They were the students from my class, I supposed. Most of them looked like they knew each other – the experienced ones – but others seemed new. I spotted a vampire wrapped in black sunlight-proof clothes and large sunglasses, and some sort of plant monster, but all the others were human, or at least human-passing, like me.

The teacher was a nice man in his thirties, with tanned skin and curly hair, named Mr. Cinquenta. The first thing he said when he got here was a private joke for one of the students. He made us turn the tables so we were sitting in a square and asked the newbies to introduce ourselves. There was an Italian girl named Luciana, a boy who had switched from Internet Coding named François, the plant monster who actually happened to be in her forties and went by Palmine, and me, Oceane.

Then, we started with an exercise that was supposed to help us know each other better. We had to write down a list of four things we knew very well, and then pick someone else’s list to write a short story out of it. In fifteen minutes. I had picked Luciana’s list and managed to write a very short story about a couple getting lost in Rome. Obviously, it was terrible compared to all the others who had done exercises like this for two years already, but the teacher didn’t comment on it, and gave me very good advice on how to improve, which was a nice change with last year’s teaching methods.

At the end of the lesson, as I gathered my stuff and got ready to leave, a beta girl with short black hair, dark eyes and pale skin walked up to me with a smile. “You’re the one who had Pierre Bottero on their list, right?”

“Yes?”

“Good choice, dude,” she said, and then fist bumped me. “He’s the best, I’ve read all of his books.”

I smiled. I wasn’t expecting to find another fan of my favorite fantasy writer here. “Me too! I especially love the Ellana trilogy.”

“It’s my favorite, I’ve read it so many times! I even used it for a paper in scenario writing last year. And what else was on your list again?”

“Lithotherapy, Black Butler and…” I blushed. “… The vocabulary of sexualities.”

“Right! Yeah, that’s how I noticed it too!” And when I looked at her questioningly. “I kinda know lots about sexuality too, it’s my thing.” She winked at me and a couple of her friends snickered as confirmation.

“I see.”

“Also, your bitty is adorable, I gotta say!”

“Oh!” I glanced at Agnelet who had dozed off on my desk at some point, when everybody started reading their stories out loud. He was curled up in a ball, skull resting on his arm. “Thanks! His name is Agnelet.”

“Is he a Softy?”

“Yeah!” Man, that girl knew a lot! “Do you have a bitty too?”

“As a matter of fact, I do! My little Sugar Plum, Salim!”

“Oh, like from _La Quête d’Ewilan_!”

“Exactly!” She smiled with delight. “I bring him sometimes too, when he gets needy, but I have to keep him in my bag. He’s a lot less well-behaved than… Agnelet, was it?”

“Oh, thanks, yeah.”

“You should meet him sometimes since you like bitties, you’ll see, he’s a charmer!”

“Oh, well, maybe next time you bring him, I’d love to meet him!”

“Sounds like a plan!” She winked at me again.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name,” I said, trying to look less puzzled by all her winks than I actually was.

“Catherine, but most people call me Katie. You?”

“Oceane,” I said, as I finished packing up my stuff and picked up my backpack. I scooped up Agnelet and slid him into the side pocket without him waking up. It was time for his afternoon nap after all.

I followed Katie downstairs where she introduced me to a number of her friends whose names I forgot almost instantly. A mix of betas and alphas, all humans. A boy joked about me being the only omega in their group and he was called out for it. They exchanged better jokes and told me about the school, giving me tips for the next lessons, then said I should join them for a drink sometimes, which I shyly agreed to, even though I felt like I had to mention that I didn’t like alcohol. Katie said it was fine, that she didn’t like to drink much either.

Agnelet woke up around that time, and when someone noticed him peeking out from my backpack’s side pocket, he became the center of everybody’s curiosity. “Oh my god, is that a bitty?”

“Ah, you had him in class, right?”

“What kind is it?”

“So cute!”

Agnelet shyly retreated into the pocket. I reached out and took him in my hands so I could hold him close to my chest reassuringly. Everyone closed in on us to see him and I took a step backwards. Too many people too close. Some took the hint but there were still a lot that were invading my personal space. “Uh, can you please, uh, step back a little? He’s shy.” Well, the results were mediocre. More people stepped away but some actually tried to touch Agnelet who was still hiding in my hands. I held him away from them and glared. “Hey. Could you please not?”

A few of Katie’s friends took my defense and pulled them away so that I could breathe better. I checked on Agnelet who immediately looked calmer with the extra space. Some girls apologized for scaring him and he smiled. “It’s fine.”

He was asked his name, his type, his favorite color, and he would answer slowly, in that cute, sleepy little voice of his. A few people knew others with bitties and fewer had bitties of their own. Some asked me if I had a favorite type, but I didn’t know all that much about it and somehow that sparked a fight about what was better, bittybones or grillbitties. I quickly walked away with Katie and two others who knew that was a silly argument.

I left to go back home soon after. I had a silly, happy grin on my face as I walked back from the bus stop. The lessons were fun, the classmates were nice, I already had one kinda-friend and apparently, as long as he was good, Agnelet was welcomed. If every day was as good as this one, this school year would be a piece of cake.


	6. 23/09/17 : Bath time, or The first time Agnelet noticed the scars on my back

I love Saturday evenings. Especially when it’s a slow week-end. Nothing to do, nothing to worry about. Perfect time to relax and take care of yourself.

That is, when your bitty isn’t being difficult.

I’m not very observant in general, but even I could notice when my bitty needs a bath. The weird thing was, I made him wash up regularly, he even had his own little plastic cup to bathe in and his own little towel to dry himself up. But he still looked dirtier as time passed and he was starting to stink, even though softies were generally known for smelling nice. Since I would always give him his privacy, I was starting to suspect something.

“Are you just pretending to clean yourself whenever I tell you to?” I asked him, that evening.

A moment passed. He looked away, a yellow glow dusting his cheekbones. “… No?”

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, baby?”

He went quiet, looking down at the wood of my desk under his feet. I didn’t want to push him too much, but he really needed a bath.

And then suddenly, he was gone.

I heard Mouse scream and saw her dart away from my bed. A specific little skeleton had just teleported behind her, surprising her and ruining his attempt to hide. “Really?” I said.

He just teleported again, away from my sight. Guess it was time for a game of “catch the stinky bitty and give him a bath”.

There was no little skeleton in the closet or in the cupboard. His shoebox was empty, and yes it would have been too easy, but you never know. Nobody under the sheets, or in Mom’s room – she was at her boyfriend’s, Josh. I was about to go look downstairs when Izzy showed up, holding Agnelet in her grasp. She had paint on her fingers, I guess she was in the middle of an art project.

My bitty was struggling in her fist, trying to escape, but she held him firmly, keeping him from teleporting away. “Were you looking for him?”

“Yes, thank you!”

She smiled in that half-amused sort of way. “Can you teach him not to walk on my palette anymore?”

“He did that?” I gave him a stern look.

“While I was using it too.” She placed the bitty in my hand and I held tight. Agnelet kind of stopped struggling, maybe because he had tired himself out. Izzy left without another word. She was busy.

“Why did you run away like that, baby?” I asked the bitty in my hand as I made my way to the bathroom.

“Don’t wanna take a bath,” he whined pleadingly. His little feet wiggled, tickling my palm.

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”

He moaned and just went quiet, giving up on the argument. I didn’t like seeing him unhappy, but I didn’t know what would make it better. It wasn’t like I could just let him go without ever cleaning himself.

I loosened my grip carefully as I closed the bathroom door but he didn’t teleport away again. He just laid in my palm like a rag doll, giving me the puppy eyes. Drama queen. “What’s the matter with bathing, anyway?” I said, grabbing the red cup and turning the faucet on, waiting for the water to warm up.

He refused to talk, closing his eyes. I rolled mine, but I didn’t want to leave him like that. I hate upsetting people. As an apology, I started petting his skull gently, the way I knew he liked. He didn’t open his eyes but didn’t push me away either, even leaning into the touch like a kitten. Sweet darling. Fine, he didn’t have to talk. Still, the problem was the same.

Little by little, an idea made its way through my mind. I wasn’t too sure about it, but perhaps it would make the whole experience better. Besides, I needed to make sure Agnelet didn’t dodge the bath again.

“How about we both take a bath?” His eyes shot open and he looked at me, obviously unsure of what to think, or say, but I was smiling. “Would you feel better if I was with you?”

He nodded slowly, and I saw the smile mirroring mine on his face.

As the water filled the bathtub, I undressed quickly, leaving my dress on the floor. When I turned around, Agnelet was sitting by the sink, looking at me curiously. I tried my best not to blush, having to remind myself that I was so different from him it was normal to be curious. After all, I also felt rather curious about him. “Aren’t you going to undress too?”

“Help me please?”

“You lazy potato,” I laughed, but obliged, helping him out of the new pajamas we had chosen together in town. He really was all bones underneath, and honestly he was super cute, so tiny and fragile without the thick layers of clothes.

I stepped into the hot water, hissing a little as I had slightly underestimated the temperature, and turned the faucet to cool it down a little bit. I reached out to Agnelet and let him climb up into my palm before sitting down in the tub. He clung onto my thumb, eying the water as he was lowered towards it. Was he scared? I thought back of the time he almost fell in the river. He hadn’t seemed that scared before that event, did it traumatize him or something?

“Are you okay, darling?”

He nodded slowly, but when I reached out my other hand towards the red cup, he pulled on my thumb. “Wanna stay with you, please.”

“Okay, sweetie.” I retrieved my hand, and very carefully, lowered Agnelet into the water, making sure it didn’t rise past his shoulders. He tensed up at first, but after a while, I felt him start to relax, loosening his grip on my finger. “There we go,” I smiled. He just laid back in my palm with a sleepy expression that made me laugh. The warmth seemed to do that to him. “Were you avoiding taking a bath because I wasn’t here to hold you?”

He nodded slowly, looking away. What I didn’t know then was that it wasn’t the water, the problem, but the fact that he was alone in his little cup, next to that huge bathtub. Even if it was empty, he still had the purely irrational fear of falling into it. But with me here, holding him, he could relax again and realize there was nothing to fear.

“Oh, baby.” I gave him a peck on the skull, but didn’t push it. Instead, I started cleaning him up, scrubbing his bones white – goodness, he really was dirty. How long had he been avoiding bathing like that? Probably since Grandma’s birthday. He let me clean him, again like a real rag doll, except at least he looked happier now. Such a spoilt lazy baby, good thing I loved him so much.

After I was done cleaning him up, I took some time to relax as well in the hot water until I was all red and pruny. Agnelet laid on my stomach, where the water was shallow enough for him, and I told him about when I was little and hated taking showers, and would run the water for fifteen minutes to pretend I actually took one, but always got caught because my hair wasn’t wet. The story made him laugh. I picked him up and set him on the side of the tub when I was ready to actually clean up. As I rinsed off the soap and shampoo, he suddenly asked : “Mommy, what’s that on your back?”

“My back? Wha-” I tried to touch my back before understanding what he meant. Still, I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. Half turned away, locks of dark blond hair sticking to my skin, the two thin parallel lines sliding down my upper back were exposed, framed by golden feathery fluff. “Those are scars,” I said, turning the water off and stepping out of the tub.

“Why are they here?” he asked as he made his way around the sides of the tub while I grabbed both our towels. I handed him his and started drying myself.

“It’s a long story. Did I tell you about my parents?”

“Your mom’s Claudia and your dad’s Daniel,” he recited.

“Yes, but that’s not what I meant. Guess I forgot to tell you, my dad is a werewolf.” He looked at me, wrapped up in his towel, waiting for me to continue. “Half werewolf, actually, his mom is human, so that means Izzy and I are a quarter werewolf. That’s why she goes out with Dad during the full moon.”

“I remember that,” he commented. I left out the fact that was also the reason they were both more prone to aggressiveness and anger as the full moon closed by – that wasn’t the matter at hand. “But you never go.”

“That’s because, when you are only part non-human, your non-human traits don’t always show up. When they do, it’s called having a dominant trait, and I have no werewolf dominant traits.” Well, I did get my square built and density from that side of the family, but those were human-passing traits so they didn’t count.

“Ok, but why do you have scars?” he pursued.

“Well, you see, while my dad is part werewolf, my mom is part avian, from my great-grand-father, and I happen to have avian dominant traits. Look, I should just show you, okay?” I had finished drying myself by now. Agnelet climbed into my palm and I quickly made my way back to my bedroom to put on some clean pajamas on both of us. When that was taken care of, I pulled out a picture from my desk drawer and set it in front of us.

There were four old people on it, two men and two women. One of the women was blond, the other had dark curly hair. The man next to the dark haired woman was tall and had large dark brown wings on his back. The man next to the blond woman was shorter, with a larger built and grey hair, and in his arms was a tiny little girl smiling at the camera, with almost platinum blond pigtails and small golden wings with black spots at the bases and ends. “Those are my grandparents. See that little girl? That was me.”

“You were so cute, mommy,” Agnelet commented and I giggled. “And you had wings. Why don’t you have wings anymore?”

“We had to have them removed when I was seven. That’s why I have scars.”

Agnelet looked at me like I had just told him I had been raped. “Why?” he cried.

“They were malformed and were starting to cause damage to my spine. I could have ended up paralyzed if I’d kept them.”

He didn’t say anything but pouted, staring at the little girl in the picture. My finger brushed his skull. “I know it’s upsetting, but I only have an eighth of avian blood, and having healthy dominant traits is more difficult with a smaller percentage of non-human blood. Only one of my cousins has managed to grow and keep healthy wings up until now, and she can’t even fly with them because they are so small. Don’t worry, I was under general anesthetic when they were removed.”

“Still,” said Agnelet.

Still, indeed. Even with the doctor’s explanation, it had been really hard to give up on my wings, especially when I was so young I could barely understand why they had to be removed. Mom said my oversensitivity had originated from that period of my life. Sometimes, I wished I could have them back. But it was a dumb wish, and therapy was there to help me move on.

“Well, now you know.” I put the picture away. “Want to try and finish that second season of Game of Thrones before we go to bed?”

Agnelet smiled at me again, and we settled down together to watch our show. Neither of us brought up the wing thing again. It wasn’t important.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, you got to the end! If you liked this, I have an ask-blog about Oceane and her bitties that you can check out until the next chapter : https://oceanweirdgirl.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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